The Sphere Imperium: Book Two of the Intentional Contact Trilogy

by B. D. Stewart

  Stynx stared at the biped, mandibles agape, both antennae twitching with confusion. How can I understand its words?

  “Here, sit next to me,” Ritch said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d show up again, but I programmed in a seat for you just in case. I think it’ll work.”

  Stynx noticed a rest bench next to his friend that looked exactly proportioned for his size. Not sure what else to do, he went over and sat on it as instructed. Since he could understand them, it seemed reasonable to assume they could understand him in return. “Where are we?”

  “In a seminar for AI optical design.” Ritch told him. “We’re in a tutorial simulation where I take all my classes. It’s really nice to see you again. You’re from that little space pod, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. And I am still there, except my mind is here, although how this is possible I do not know.”

  “You must be connecting to this sim through a neural link same as me.” Ritch gave him an inquisitive look. “Let’s try something. Here, touch my hand like you did before.”

  Stynx extended his right hand, palm facing Ritch. Long, slender, bipedal fingers brushed against his shorter, stubbier ones. Once again, greenish sparks arced between them.

  They were both ready for it this time, and they both kept their fingers pressed tight together. Emotions, memories, unfathomable alien images, flowed through the connection. Stynx knew what Ritch was thinking, and he felt certain the biped knew his thoughts as well. Fantastic visions flashed and swirled between them. Memories from long ago surged out with recent ones, flooding together in a jumbled mix. The sheer magnitude of thoughts and memories overwhelmed their senses.

  Ritch pulled his hand away first. “Wow. I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Nor I.” Stynx watched curiously as Ritch blinked both eyes and made a strange couff sound, needing, it seemed, a moment or two to recover. Stynx, thanks to his joining with the Matriarch, absorbed it better. And like that first joining, this one had been equally wondrous. He gleaned enough to know Ritch lived on a “hauler” that transported ores between worlds. The only mystery left was how he’d gotten here.

  “Just as my body lies inside a space pod, as you call it, yours is inside a large cylindrical vessel. Correct?”

  Ritch’s head bobbed up and down. “Yes. It’s a spaceship named Argo. It transports minerals between worlds. Problem is, the ship’s been taken over by thieves. That’s why I’m here, now, in this simulation. I need to learn certain things so we, us, Argo’s crew, can take it back from them.”

  “Thieves?” Stynx heard the word in his mind but did not understand its meaning.

  Ritch tried to explain. “Thieves steal things, take them from other people without their consent.”

  “Does their nest not provide every need?”

  “Uh . . . no. Human society is more of an every person out-for-themselves type of thing. Anyways, let me learn what I need here, then we can talk more about it. This should only take a few minutes.” Ritch raised his hand.

  “A question, young man?” asked Professor Tottle.

  “Best method to purge a Generation R3 artificial intelligence of intruder corruptors?”

  Stynx stared, fascinated, as the “simulated” Professor Tottle became very animated, delightfully explaining the intricacies of photonic circuit design and molecular processing. Holographic displays appeared, highlighting specific details. It was technical jargon far beyond Stynx’s understanding.

  But Ritch seemed to comprehend it all, and just as he’d claimed, it didn’t take very long. “Got it,” he said excitedly. “Hate to exit class early, Professor Tottle, but an emergency has arisen that requires my immediate attention. Gotta go.”

  Just as Ritch was rising up from his seat, an explosion detonated behind Stynx. The Scout turned, looking back as Suij'Crai'C darted into the classroom. Shattered door fragments were strewn about the floor, leaving little doubt that they’d blown their way in.

  A lightning bolt lanced into Professor Tottle. The biped emitted a short, startled scream, looking down in disbelief at a smoldering wound on his chest, and then collapsed to the floor.

  “Warbots, attack!” Ritch shouted.

  Orange beams of light slashed into the Suij'Crai'C. A moment later gray blurs began streaking into them as well, exploding with thunderous detonations.

  Stynx saw a steel-and-chrome shape rise into the air and charge the Suij'Crai'C. The thing was twice his height and considerably more massive, with a thick, cylindrical body. Its metallic arms were bent forward, the beam weapons built into them unleashing hellish fusion fire into the Suij'Crai'C. Thin, tubular projectiles, pointed at the tip, streaked from openings on its body, trailing gray plumes of smoke.

  He felt a fleshy hand grab his wrist. It tugged.

  “Follow me.” Ritch was barely audible over the loud explosions. “Didn’t know if those fire beasts would show up again, so I added a few elements from another sim I like to play that will help us out.”

  Stynx counted four warbots attacking the Suij'Crai'C. He’d noticed them earlier―one in each corner of the classroom―but they stood perfectly still, so naturally he assumed they were some type of furnishing, or a teaching device, perhaps―not live creatures! Lightning bolts from the Suij'Crai'C ricocheted off an invisible barrier that was shielding their armor-clad bodies.

  Ritch led him to a metal latch attached to the floor. The biped grabbed it with both hands and pulled back, causing a hidden panel to swing open with a creak. A tunnel descended into darkness below.

  “It’s a secret passage,” Ritch explained. “Wait a few secs and then follow me.”

  Stynx watched as Ritch jumped in, vanishing from view. He took a deep breath, held it, and then jumped in, too.

  The sensation that followed was like falling down an endless black hole. Stynx couldn’t see anything in the total darkness. Just as he was beginning to worry it might never end, he popped out in a chamber similar to the classroom they had just left.

  Ritch was there waiting for him. “I call that a rabbit hole. Fun, isn’t it. I programmed it into the sim myself.” The fleshy orifice beneath Ritch’s facial beak curled upward at both ends, an expression Stynx now knew was a smile. “Don’t worry, the fire beasts can’t follow us. That’s assuming they survive my warbots, which I seriously doubt. I programmed the rabbit hole to fill with concrete after we came through it.”

  Stynx smiled in return, his mandibles raising high. Just like he had saved Ritch from the Suij'Crai'C during their first encounter, that favor had just been repaid.

  Ritch knelt down, bending those ungainly legs, until his two brown eyes were level with Stynx’s three multifaceted ones. “I hate to leave you now,” he said. “But my Dad and Shepard really need my help.” Reaching out with both hands, the boy gently hugged Stynx around his alitrunk, just behind the neck. “Once we escape the thieves, I’ll do everything I can to help you escape those guard sats, too. Okay?”

  Stynx nodded as he returned the hug, embracing Ritch’s upper torso.

  “I’ll get back here soon as I can,” Ritch promised. “Until then, goodbye. End simulation.”

  Once again, Stynx was suddenly yanked up and away, his mind hurtling back to the scout pod at incredible speed.

  Vaj Nest, the Inner Sanctum

  She had explored hundreds of planets scattered across ten thousand light years in the past millennium, a few of them inhabited by life forms of one remarkable type or another, the others void of life but still captivating to First Mother in their own unique fashion, and yet none were as interesting as these “simulated” worlds of the bipedal youngling named Ritch.

  Whether it was the classroom of Professor Tottle, or the ancient English forest, First Mother had marveled at their realism. Once she comprehended the mechanical apparatus behind their creation, these simulated worlds were simple enough to manipulate. With an insertion of focused thoughts, she had overlaid certain memories of her own into Ritch’s Castle Siege adventure, bringing Suij
'Crai'C to life in that English forest. So, too, did First Mother prevent Ritch from exiting the simulation, keeping him there to interact with Stynx.

  As for the warbots and rabbit hole Ritch had added to Professor Tottle’s classroom, First Mother was impressed with the biped’s creativity. Neither she nor any of her sisters could imagine such possibilities. A beneficial trait that would be a welcome addition to their own, if―no, when―the Meld joined both species together.

  She realized there were many, many obstacles that could prevent a Meld from occurring. Yet with the proper guidance a safe passage could be found to traverse them all. First Mother was confident. She needed to be. Failure in this endeavor meant the extinction of their Form.

  After First Mother had conveyed Stynx back to his pod, leaving him in a peaceful hibernation slumber, she studied the child and his environs. Satisfied Stynx was safe from immediate harm, she ended her odyssey.

  First Mother relaxed, letting her mind flow back to her physical body that rested in the birthing crater as it had for over a millennium. She felt the usual disorientation from the extreme astral acceleration, followed by a hard braking and an abrupt stop, then she was once again back in Inner Sanctum.

  Without delay, First Mother sent a beckon to each of her sisters. She had considerable news to share.

  Tazaral

  The dropship burst from a null portal, emerging on the far reaches of the Cirtus Beta system. A comet drifted twenty million kilometers away, otherwise the nearest celestial object lay a full light hour farther in-system.

  With the sensory membranes rippling in harmonic resonance, the diverse subForms within Tazaral searched for the scout pod they had come to retrieve. The influx globes were queried, visuals examined, stellar data studied, but the familiar egg shape could not be found.

  Patience prevailed as the search continued. Time passed. Eventually the moment of rendezvous came and went and was now long overdue.

  To the Organizer subForm who led Tazaral, there was just one reasonable conclusion: the pod had met with disaster. Fate had overtaken the two Scouts within. Later, if events elsewhere permitted it, they’d return to investigate the cause of its demise, but now the dropship must depart. Other scout pods needed retrieval.

  As Tazaral began moving away, its longsails aglow with purplish hues as they propelled the dropship toward null, a faint bleat . . . blip . . . beep was heard. This was soon identified as a distress signal from the missing pod, its resonant tone unmistakable.

  The signal was tracked and traced, its origin found. The coordinates were sent to the Engrams for memorization. Although the pod had been located, the spatial distance was too great to ascertain its condition. Nor could it be determined if the two Scouts inside were still alive. This star system lay within a sprawling nebula with heavy concentrations of luminous gas and dust that obscured details, making data analysis ambiguous.

  An important fact did reveal itself: the distress signal held constant at a fixed location. Conclusion: the pod was stationary. Caught, perhaps, by an unknown force? This deduction seemed most likely.

  Various Clasts, Scouts, even a few Cipher subForms aboard Tazaral suggested a rescue attempt, but the wiser, more cautious guidance of the Organizer who led prevailed.

  “The pod might be trapped,” the Organizer proclaimed. Whatever trapped the pod might also trap Tazaral as well. Rescue of the Scouts would be left to those better able to free them.

  Accordingly, a message orb was encoded and sent to the Temporals, who hurled it through the null.

  Some ninety-six light years away, Temporals aboard a dreadnought of the Amber Spar Legion received that orb. It soon reached the dominant Seer in the massive ship’s command core. A minute later, an order went out, causing fifty-one warships to head for an orange star known as Cirtus Beta.

  Mu Sequence:

  Stolen

  Argo

  In Quin Mercer’s not-so-humble opinion, this was the most important moment of his life, past, present, or future. He paused to take a few deep breaths, composing himself, then he took a step forward, triggering the door in front of him to slide open. Mercer strolled through it and onto the bridge with the calm demeanor of a man who didn’t have the slightest concern. That, of course, was a complete façade―he felt more alive and exhilarated than ever before. But then who wouldn’t be when about to pull off the greatest heist of the century?

  This was the chance of a lifetime, an opportunity he had to take. Mercer couldn’t deny himself the good fortune of becoming a fabulously wealthy man. Rich enough to buy his own fancy casino and live the lifestyle of the big-time gambler he knew himself to truly be.

  The stakes were set, his bet made. Now it was time to roll the dice.

  He went over to Tarn and tapped the hauler captain on the shoulder. “Go take a break and rest your weary eyes. I’ll take the helm for a while.”

  Tarn gave an annoyed shrug and then pushed off with his feet, rolling his swivel chair out of the way. Since his right wrist was handcuffed to the chair’s armrest, it went where he went.

  Mercer grabbed another and rolled it over, taking a seat in front of the vacated control console.

  “What the frick are you doing?” Sinja asked with a sneer, no longer concealing her dislike of Mercer.

  “I’m stealing that alien escape pod out there.” Mercer spun around in his seat, stopping when he faced Sinja. “See this?” He held up a matchbox-sized device with a neon-red push trigger atop it. The trigger was blinking, indicating it was active. “It’s the detonator for a bomb stowed in the hyperdrive controls of this ship.”

  Sinja recognized the trigger and knew right away what bomb Mercer was talking about. Datch had brought it aboard, ten kilos of military-grade explosive―part of Sinja’s Plan B. Had Plan A not worked, she would have detonated the bomb in the engine of their courier ship when they entered the Cirtus Beta system. The resulting explosion would have created a perceived life-threatening emergency, wherein the guardian satellites let the stricken ship coast on through the perimeter; clever Sinja using their life-preservation encoding against them. The mining platform would send a shuttle to help them, at which point they’d overpower its crew, then fly the shuttle back to the platform, take control, and steal Argo that way. Since Plan A had worked, the bomb wasn’t needed. Now Mercer was using it to blackmail her.

  Sinja felt her stomach tighten. “Is this some kind of sick game?”

  Datch went for his pistol, but Sinja held out her hand, stopping him.

  Elsewhere on the bridge, Tarn and Dupree both went rigid, not sure if this was in fact a game or the start of something violent. They stared with confused expressions, clueless spectators for whatever was about to happen.

  “No game.” Mercer’s thumb was firm on the trigger. “Touch me, or your trained attack dog over there touches me,” Mercer paused to nod his head in Datch’s direction, “and I detonate it. You know as well as I what happens then.”

  “Yeah, goodbye hyperdrive.” Sinja glared at Mercer like a nasty bug she wanted to squash.

  “That’s right. We’ll be stuck at sublight speeds, and when police enforcers get here they grab us all.” Mercer didn’t blink as he stared at her. “Then a few decades in prison for you.”

  His last comment had the desired effect. Sinja cringed, recalling her three agonizing years in a corrupt big-city jail: the repeated rapes by the guards plus suffering at the hands of the highest bidder on weekends. A long stint in prison she couldn’t handle. She’d rather die first. “You’ll get as much time as me.”

  “It’s a chance I’m willing to take. But I’m betting you’re too smart to let that happen.” Mercer’s attitude lightened. “Listen, there’s no need for any of this hostility. We just steal that alien escape pod out there and nothing bad happens. You’re rich, I’m rich, and we all get away clean and free. Afterward, we all go our separate ways. Everyone leaves happy.”

  Knowing time was running out and with no other options, Sinja reluctan
tly gave in. “All right, you win. Damn you, Mercer. Damn you to hell.”

  Mercer gave her an impish smile as he began establishing a link with the guard sats. “You forget that I’m an atheist. I’m betting there is no hell.”

  Vaj Nest, the Inner Sanctum

  The Matriarchs came at once when they heard First Mother’s beckon, the consciousness of each coalescing into a luminous spectral orb. Once all had arrived, sixteen Matriarchs formed a Circle of Counsel around First Mother, who blazed brighter than any like a miniature white star.

  Down below in the birthing crater, the ever-present throng of Caretaker subForms scurried about First Mother’s gargantuan body, attending to all of her physical needs, yet nonetheless blind to her radiant consciousness above. Only telepathic or psionic creatures could perceive a Matriarch’s spectral orb.

  First Mother projected her thoughts outward to her sisters. “Welcome. May the wisdom of our foremothers embrace you all.”

  “May you share that joyous embrace,” they replied as one, their thoughts resonating with warm, affectionate tones.

  Excited to share her good news, First Mother displayed an image of Stynx asleep in his scout pod. “The child has survived our intentional contact,” she thought. “His interaction with the creatures of the Meld has begun.”

  The gathered orbs pulsed with joyful shades of azure blue.

  “Show us,” they urged.

  First Mother eagerly complied. Above her, an alien forest appeared as she displayed Stynx’s encounter with Ritch. The Matriarchs saw the two of them meet, touch, begin to communicate. Neither appeared the least bit afraid of the other. And then, when Suij'Crai'C swarmed into this simulated forest environment, Stynx had helped the biped, hiding Ritch from a flame demon.

  The Matriarchs were impressed. Pink swirls of delight danced through the orbs, mixed with the sapphire hues of congratulatory expressions. They had indeed chosen a worthy candidate.